


Pull the Stars from the Sky

by Laylah



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Apocalypse, Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Desperation, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-17
Updated: 2009-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kinky," Haru says when he suggests it, and for a second the little smirk on her lips makes her look like her old self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull the Stars from the Sky

"Kinky," Haru says when he suggests it, and for a second the little smirk on her lips makes her look like her old self.

"Sorry," Gin says as he strips off his tie. "If I had any better ideas, you know, I'd say so."

Haru nods. "Everyone is suffering," she says. She stretches out on the floor, on the blanket he looted from a store display window on the first day. It's not enough to really make a soft bed, but it's better than nothing. Better than a lot of people are doing by now.

"I just don't want you to hurt yourself," Gin says. "Aya would never forgive me." The light of the one emergency candle is enough to let him see her flinch. He feels a little bad, using Aya's name, but it's the truth -- and if anyone can get through to Haru when she's this much of a wreck....

"Okay," Haru says. She closes her eyes, stretches her arms out over the head, crossing her wrists around the bolted-down leg of one of the bar stools. "Not like I have a lot to lose."

Gin takes her hand, gives it a squeeze. "I won't let you get hurt," he promises. He winds his tie around her wrists, then between them, doing his best to make the knot secure. "Comfy?"

Haru shrugs. "It's not so bad," she says. She looks better than she has any right to, stretched out and graceful, the slit in her skirt baring a long sliver of stocking and pale skin. Gin thinks about the fantasies Aya used to whisper to him late at night, and then wishes he hadn't.

"Sleep tight," he says. He blows out the candle and lies down beside her.

It ought to be tricky, sleeping on the floor in an overheated bar, when they can't even run a fan to keep cool, but the thing about surviving the lockdown is that it's exhausting. Just making it through the day takes about all the energy he has. Gin closes his eyes and goes out almost as quick as the candle.

Panic wakes him up, panic and the ozone crackle of a summoning only halfway done. Haru is tense and shivering beside him in the dark, singing this eerie melody that makes Gin's nerves snap taut. He rolls over, fumbling for her, and covers her mouth with his hand. Her lips keep moving, but the sound is muffled, and the sense of demonic presence fades a little.

"Haru," Gin says sharply. He finds her shoulder with his other hand, gives her a shake. "Cut it out."

She startles against him, whimpers, and goes quiet. After a minute he figures he can risk taking his hand away.

"You okay?" he asks.

There's a soft noise like she's crying, and he feels like such a dick. "I was dreaming about her," Haru whispers.

Gin shudders. "So that song..." he says.

"She was teaching it to me," Haru says. "She said I needed to learn it." She shifts, and Gin realizes she's trying to press closer to him. He wonders if he should offer to untie her, if he should get up and light the candle again. He doesn't have a lot of them left, but they only have a few days before it all ends, anyway.

He doesn't get up, though, just leans into her a little closer and wraps an arm around her carefully. "We're going to be okay," he says. It sounds inane and he's sure it's a lie, but what else can you say to a crying girl? She smells like exhaustion and stale sweat, and he can't be doing any better. He wishes he could get a shower at least one more time before the world ends.

"Gin," Haru says. Her voice sounds thick, but it's steady. "Thanks." She moves again, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder, seeking, and then she presses her mouth to his neck. She's trembling, like it's a strain to reach him, so the knot must be holding for now.

"Hey," Gin says. His hand curls around the arch of her hip almost automatically. "What's up, Haru?" It's not like he never noticed before how good she looks, not like he never thought about it -- usually with Aya there too, but still -- like this --

"It's in my head," she says. Her breath is humid against his skin, and her voice sounds distant, strange. "The song. I can't stop hearing it, and it's -- it wants to be sung. I want to think about anything else."

Gin winces. "Not the most romantic line I've ever heard," he says. Haru's breath hisses, probably exasperation, and he adds, "Sorry." He thinks about it for a second, studies what's left of his conscience. If Aya were still around it would be different, for both of them, but he's pretty sure by now that Aya's not coming back, and showering isn't the only thing he'd like to do one more time before the end of the world.

He rolls over, slides a knee between Haru's thighs and pins her. Her breath hitches, soft curves pressing up against him.

"If this isn't what you meant, let me know," he says.

Haru squirms under him. "I can't reach you," she says.

Gin leans down to kiss her, and at first he misses, in the dark, collides with her chin, but they get it right after a little fumbling. Her mouth tastes sour, but it doesn't matter. She can't sing like this. They're both safer that way, aren't they? When he slides a hand up under her shirt and cups her breast, the sound she makes isn't melodic at all. It's raw and almost hurting and _alive_ , and that's the important part. Right?

He almost expects her to tell him to stop, she's changed her mind, when he pushes her skirt aside and runs his hand up her thigh to find the lace top of her stocking and the bare skin above it. But she just nods, her hair brushing his face, and bites his earlobe. He groans, feeling how that sharp little pain makes his heart beat faster, makes his cock hard. Still alive. Still hurting, still wanting, still human.

Her panties are soft, maybe silk, and he can feel the prickle of stubble through them -- like usually she shaves, but she hasn't been able to since the lockdown started. They should have done this in better times. He pushes the fabric out of the way, sinks two fingers into her. Hot as it is in the bar, she's even hotter inside, molten, and her hips rock up toward his hand.

"More," she says hoarsely, so Gin presses the heel of his hand against her to give her something to really push against. He bites her throat, tasting sweat and feeling how she clenches around his fingers.

"Like that, huh?" he says. He bites again, sucking the salt from her skin. Haru shivers, and Gin can feel the flex of her arm as she pulls at the binding on her wrists. He thought he was going to wait, try to take care of her before he asked for anything himself, but he's not sure he can stand it. "Haru," he says, sitting back. "It's okay, right?"

Her breath is audible, and it feels like forever before she actually says it. "Yeah. Go ahead."

Gin pulls out, needs both hands to get his pants open. Probably he should apologize for the fact that he doesn't have any condoms. Probably this'll be the last time either of them ever do this. Probably it doesn't matter.

He eases her panties down by feel. Her legs go on just about forever, her stockings smooth under his hands. He stretches out over top of her, presses her thighs apart. She hooks an ankle around the back of his leg, pulling him down. "Do it," she says.

His cock slides against her wetness, and then on the second try the angle's right and he slips into her slick heat. She moans, low and broken, almost music, and wraps one leg around the small of his back to pull him deep. Gin puts his weight on his elbows, finds his hands curling around her forearms. He can feel the flex of tendons in her arms as she clenches her wrists -- she shudders under him, stretches up to bite his throat. It hurts, and his hips snap forward reflexively. "Haru," he says.

"Yes," she says. "Yes."

It's not the way this should have gone, not what he would have wanted, but it's what they have left: the close darkness, the heat, the tiny crooning sounds she makes that he muffles with more kisses any time they come too close to a melody. Gin holds on to Haru and moves with her, their breath in rhythm like a song in an ancient tongue. For now they have this, have each other -- and if they're lucky, in a few hours, morning will come.


End file.
